Empty Spaces
by Clez
Summary: America... land of the brave and the free? Or is all just an act? Are they really as strong as they appear, or do they have their weaknesses like the rest of us? Do they feel sorrow, pain and grief? Set premovie


**Author's Note: **Okay… another short for you here, guys. This one is set before the movie, and includes two other non-_League_ characters. So… here goes. Thanks _so_ much to **Sethoz** for her unintentional -I'm sure- inspiration that she gave me :D Now, bearing in mind, I have only read _some_ of _'The Adventures of Tom Sawyer'_, you'll have to give me some leeway, 'kay? Thanks!

* * *

                There she stood, quite unwilling to do what she was here to do, and took a deep heaving sigh of a breath, trying not to let her emotions get to her. So far, considering the circumstances, she wasn't doing so well in that area, and hugged herself tightly, arms drawn around her as if for protection.

                The two men stood near to her, and she took comfort in their proximity and warmth. To the left of her stood the taller, his blonde mane of hair all in his green eyes as normal, his hands in his jacket pockets, the coat itself trailing down around his ankles. To her right was the shorter, his chocolate eyes so full of mischief and intrigue and they awaited their 'destiny'. His brown hair hung down on his brow and in his eyes slightly, tousled beyond the point of, as she liked to think of it, adorable.

                They were waiting for a boat, and the two men to either side of her practically bristled with anticipation. It was a mission, and she had a horrible sensation in her stomach that made her feel nauseous all of a sudden.

                "Hey, you all right?" the man to the right of her said, and he touched a gentle hand to her elbow ever so softly in concern. His brow furrowed and he cocked his handsome head to one side. 

                "Why, Huckleberry, you know me," she laughed, and shrugged loosely under her dress. "I'm fine. Just nervous for the two of you. I want you to be careful… I _need_ you to be careful. You hear me?"

                Huckleberry Finn fidgeted to the right of her, and hugged his left arm around her shoulders, squeezing affectionately. "Why, Miss Thatcher, I didn't know you cared."

                She gave him a nudge with her elbow, and heard him give a little 'oof' as a result. She smiled lightly, and giggled at him. He could always make her laugh. The figure to the left of her was looking down at her with those deep pensive eyes, still full of youthful intent, and he told her, "We'll be fine, Becky… okay? You've got nothing to worry about. Me and Huck, we know how to take care of ourselves."

                "Yeah, when have you ever known us to get into trouble?" Huck inquired with a cocky grin.

                Becky Thatcher raised a delicate eyebrow, and stifled a laugh. She put her hands on her hips, and stated blandly, "You want a list, Huckleberry?"

                Huck flushed red, and cleared his throat. He always seemed to get embarrassed when she used his full name like that.

                "Besides, this isn't kids games like back in Missouri, you two, this is the real world, where bad guys really exist and the weapons _hurt_," Becky persisted in a serious tone, and she threw a meaningful glance to Thomas Sawyer to her left.

                The two Special Agents of the American Secret Service didn't know what to say to that… it was clear from the blank looks on their faces.

                "C'mon, Becky, what are you worried about? It's just some guy stirring up trouble in Europe, that's all," Tom informed her lightly, hands still hidden in the depths of his pockets. 

                "I _mean_ it," Becky grumbled, and she was staring intently at Tom now, for she knew him to be one for action and adventure, always seeking a bit of a thrill, chasing danger wherever it went and teasing it until it turned on him, and then he would be able to show his skill by escaping at the last minute. It was amazing men like this lived beyond their teens. "If the both of you don't come back…" She couldn't finish the sentence.

                _Why **am** I so worried? These two are good at their jobs; otherwise they wouldn't be going, would they? Quit fretting already, and show them some support._

                Becky waited for Tom's response, but instead of words, she received a sigh, and then his arms around her slight frame in a warm, meaningful embrace. She didn't know what to do at first, before she reciprocated gently, holding him firmly to her for fear of losing him forever to some unknown but terrible force if she let go again. 

                She closed her eyes, and leaned into his shoulder, reassured by his closeness, and only drew away when Huck cleared his throat impatiently. He had always interrupted their affections one way or another. Perhaps if he hadn't, then Becky and Tom… she closed off her thoughts then, and fell silent.

                Tom and Huck stood stoically either side of her, both taller and more imposing than Becky. She felt no shame at this. Many times she had relied on them, on their presence to reassure, comfort and protect her no matter what the odds. And every single time she had needed them, they had been close at hand to help.

                Huck was a dear friend to her, more like a brother really. His mischief and attempts at jest were always frowned upon externally, but relished inside. Becky dare not think on what she would do if she lost Huck… many times his foolish exploits, no matter how futile, helped to cheer her in the dark times.

                Tom was… she didn't know exactly. Yes, he was friend, a very dear one too, but not a brother figure. No… not that, not Tom. He was something more, something deeper to Becky that she could not name. Many years ago, in school, she had been 'engaged' to Tom Sawyer. She smiled at the memory, their first kiss together and how sweet it had been. It was a marvel her memory served her in that instance, for it had been so long since that day. She had longed for more… even though she had only been a child, so young and innocent and naïve. No longer though… if she didn't do something now, she might never get the chance.

                _You mustn't think like that, Becky Thatcher! What would Tom think if he heard you say such things? He would think you morbid and cynical. You don't want that, do you?_ A pause as she regarded the handsome face of the blonde young man to her left, the pensive lines creasing his forehead, and the intelligence in his green eyes as the moonlight from the water's surface shone in them mysteriously. _No I don't want that. I want **him**… I want him so badly._

                She gritted her teeth as she heard the boat approach. If she didn't do it now… why did it have to be so damn difficult? This was Tom Sawyer, someone she had known for _years_, trusted with her life and deepest secrets, and she couldn't just reach out and…

                "Looks like our transportation is here," Huck interrupted cheerily, and rubbed his hands together. He paused, furrowing his brow again as he added, "I didn't think I'd be this excited, though… you know?"

                Tom laughed and nodded heartily. "I know what you mean, Huck. Feels good to get out of the country for a while."

                Becky huffed quietly. 

                Tom looked to her. "I'm not so eager to leave _you_ behind though, I should add." He rubbed her back softly, and she tingled.

                _Dammit, Thomas, stop that!_

                He did, and he didn't know how much it relieved her from screaming due to the stress of fighting internally as to whether or not she should reach out and do what she desired to do, had been yearning for since… god, she didn't know when.

                _Just do it, you idiot! After this, you might change your mind! At least, if you do it now, you'll know **before** he leaves on a dangerous mission._

                Becky fumed inside, and groaned quietly. Huck threw her a glance, but fell quiet at her meaningful expression as she glared gently.

                Huck Finn strode forward as the boat approached. They could hear it clearly now, the men aboard calling to them to say that they should stay where they were, and just hang on a minute or two.

                It wasn't until the boat had docked, and Huck was striding up to it that Becky finally snapped. Tom moved to follow his partner and friend, and Becky's feminine hand shot out, gripping his elbow firmly.

                Tom turned to her, and looked to her in puzzlement, asking silently for explanation as to her confusing actions.

                Words were pushed aside, and she took one large stride up to him, and leaned up, kissing him firmly on the lips. She pulled away shortly thereafter, and realised how shocked she was at her own sudden action. When had she clearly decided to do _that_?

                "I-"

                Tom cut her off by pulling her face back to his again, and they met again in a kiss, no longer innocent or sweet, but meaningful and passionate, saying more than a thousand words could possibly hope to express. This one simple action shared between the two said so much more. Her hand brushed his face, and despite her attempts to stop it, her knees weakened slightly. She leaned on him with the other hand for stability, even as he let his own hand gently hold her around the back of the neck.

                At the boat now, Huck wondered what the delay was, and turned, impatient, stopping short with dropped jaw at the sight that awaited his brown eyes. He fumbled for words, before managing a feeble, "O-kay… what the…?"

                Becky and Tom broke apart, staring into each other's eyes, and the former suddenly felt very warm, but still cold in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong with all of this, she knew. His hand moved from around the back of her neck, trailing softly and tenderly across her smooth cheek, and she closed her eyes with a light sigh. She opened her eyes to meet his, and did not shift even slightly as he stroked her blonde locks from her face.

                "I'm coming back, Becky," he said to her in a determined fashion that she could not argue. "Huck too. _We're_ coming back, I promise."

                Becky moved with him to the boat after Huck had started whistling in a 'subtle' attempt to move things along. They came up before him, and the two broke away. Huck stepped up to Becky, a warm, brotherly smile on his sweet features.

                "See you soon," he muttered to her, kissing her hand. She laughed, a tear in her eye suddenly. She brushed it away, taking a deep breath, and nodded.

                "You bet you will, Huckleberry," she whispered back to him, and planted a simple kiss on his cheek, knowing that he understood the depth behind it. She was telling him to take care of himself.

                He hugged her tightly in a firm embrace, and took a breath of her hair, smiling to himself at how it teased his senses. He stepped away, giving her a half-wave and a mischievous smile before hopping onto the boat to help the crew. 

                Tom stood facing her, and she practically leapt on him, throwing her arms around his neck and trying not to cry. Damn her emotions! Why did they have to taunt her so? It wasn't fair. 

                "Take care of him, Tom," she instructed into the cloth of his jacket, but she knew, despite the muffled result, that he had heard her by the way he nodded into her hair.

                "I will, don't worry. We'll see you soon, okay? I'll try to contact you if and when I can."

                Becky drew away, hands to her eyes immediately, trying to stem the tears that threatened to tumble. One escaped her, and Tom wiped it away gently with the ball of his thumb, smiling lopsidedly at her in a charming manner. 

                "I'll be waiting for you," Becky managed to say, and felt the cold envelop her as the distance between them grew. He got into the boat, and looked to her, his eyes conveying his promise and longing to move back to her, even as the vessel started to draw away.

                Huck waved again, and Becky returned it, standing alone on the dock with no one but the cab driver some thirty feet away for company.

                She watched the two figures on the boat until the darkness stole them away, and sighed heavily, turning to return home to her worries and impatience until she heard something from either of them… both of them, she trusted… she hoped.

* * *

                Becky Thatcher stood at once when her maid poked her head out of the back door to the house, squinting in the sunshine, and called, "Miss? There is a letter for you." She dropped her picked flowers at once, and ran into the building, ignoring the mud on her shoes, and subsequently the carpet. She had a feeling she knew what this letter was, who it was from, and no matter how hard she tried the odd sensation in her stomach would not desist.

                The maid handed it to her, smiled sweetly, and then departed to see to the mess Becky had just unintentionally made in her own house. Becky stared at the address for a long time, recognising the handwriting. Tom… it was from Tom. She would know his style anywhere. Hastily, she tore open the envelope, slightly apprehensive.

                She unfolded the paper inside, and her eyes started to read. Her heart sank lower and lower into her being with every word;

                _Dear Becky,_

_                                                I know it has been longer than I promised, and that I swore I would keep in touch… but circumstances have been against me. I so hoped I would not have to write this letter, that by some stroke of my usual damnable luck, everything would go according to plan… that everything would be fine._

_                I know this is the worst possible way to hear of this, but I wish there was another way. _

_                Huck died._

There was an awfully painful amount of emotion poured into those two words that tore into Becky and attacked her where it hurt.

                She read on, her eyes obstructed by tears.

                _I tried to save him… but I couldn't, Becky. I'm so sorry. He saved my life, and I know we promised we'd both be back soon safe and sound, I can't. I have to stop the man who did this. I can't let him get away with what he's done, Becky, you know that._

_                I'll be careful, I promise. _

_                I know you don't want to hear this, but they're going to bring his body back to Missouri as soon as they can so we can bury him. I'm going to come back for the funeral before going to England._

_                I'll see you soon… again, I'm so sorry._

_                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Yours,_

                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Tom Sawyer 

                Becky fought for air, and the letter fell from her grasp. She shook terribly, every fibre in her body threatening to break apart and tumble uselessly away forever. She felt lost inside, like someone had reached into her and ripped out her heart and soul.

                The tears fell freely and rapidly from her eyes, and she began to sob after a frightening moment of utter silence. Her knees failed her, and she collapsed to the floor in a mess. She let out a scream, and tore at the carpet with her nails in her despair and sorrow.

                The maid came crashing back through to her, and was at her side in moments, asking her what was wrong. "Miss Thatcher? Oh, heavens, whatever is the matter? What is it?" 

                Becky did not reply… _could_ not reply. She only sobbed and moaned painfully into her knees, still shaking.

                The other woman must have seen the letter, for she fell very quiet, and simply rubbed Becky's back as she completely gave in to her desolation, her sobs the only sound in the house for hours to come.

* * *

                After the funeral, Tom had tried to talk to her, but she had had nothing to say to him. She had found she could not push the words up her throat and out of her mouth. He had tried to apologise, and she had simply… nodded. She had practically ignored him, turned cold, impenetrable at the loss of a dear friend, a surrogate brother. He was gone to her forever, and she would never see his sweet young face again, never hear his laughter, see his crude attempts to cheer her up.

                "Please, Becky," Tom had begged of her, annoyingly looking very fetching in his suit. "Becky, listen to me. He died a hero, the way he always wanted to go… he… he saved my life."

                The glare had silenced him, icy and frightening. Though she had worn a kind of veil over her face, he had seen it, and drawn away slightly, the proximity less after that, as though he were intimidated by her, the dangerous air about her. He obviously had realised she must blame him.

                The tears that shone in his eyes were enough to make her pain swell as he said, "I'm _sorry_, Becky, please… Becky?"

                Joe Harper had pulled Tom away from Becky at that moment, saying in her defence, "Just leave her alone, Tom. Let her mourn, okay? Maybe you should go…"

                Tom had stared, pained and shocked at Joe's words, and then shared a final look with Becky. They shared much in that last moment of eye contact, and as he turned to leave, a shiver wracked her form and she urged to call out after him, to stop him and make him come back so she could hold him close and feel his warmth.

                But he was already moving away from the congregation; head hung low, his every step heavy with grief as he distanced himself more and more from everyone. Becky watched him with a heavy heart, and closed her eyes against the tears in them. She would not let them fall. She doubted she had much left in her after all that had happened.

                Now, as she sat in her carriage on the way home, she wished she had not been so cold and distant, perhaps even downright mean, to Tom. She had pushed him away. What if she never saw him again? She may never get the oppurtunity to apologise for hastily blaming him for not keeping Huck safe and alive. How could it be his fault? The sincerity and hurt in his words as he had tried to reconcile with her had been heartbreaking, and as she sat in the carriage, Becky's tears welled up anew.

                She would not lose him… she would pray for him with every spare moment she had. Tom Sawyer would come back to her, sooner or later, one way or another. With this new sense of hope in her -perhaps false hope, though she did not think that way openly-, she settled back into her mourning for Huckleberry Finn.


End file.
